


Tidal Waves

by Katie (cranberrylatte)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Barista AU, M/M, Minor, No Smut, Secondary school AU, Seung-chuchu, Teenage! Viktor, Teenage! Yuuri, Viktor with a "K", Yuuri with two "u"s, angsty, m/m - Freeform, overflowing angst, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranberrylatte/pseuds/Katie
Summary: The sailor had loved the sea since the beginning of time, but he didn't mean to fall for the waves. You see, while water can carry a boat, it can also overturn it. The waves, however, was a different legend entirely. It kills without hesitation, without knowing, and that makes it the most dangerous in the ocean.In which the sailor is betrayed, while the waves' own tears go unnoticed.





	Tidal Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Salut! This is my first fanfiction for the YOI fandom and I'm excited!! I'll continue this if you guys think it's ok. I attempt to write angst but most of it just turns into fluff so I hope this will be an improvement! Note that the age differences between characters are different here. For example, Yuuri only has a two-year age gap with Viktor and Christophe and Viktor are the same age etc. All because I want to fit all'em beauties in the same school. Enjoy!

The clock mocked him as he scrolled his phone.

Two hours and he could skedaddle to practice. Two hours. _Patience._

He could imagine what his profile would look like: _Katsuki Yuuri, a miserable 21-year-old who is currently wasting his life away._ Being a barista was the last thing he wanted, and what he used to adore with his entire soul only served as an escape from real life. Yuuri had forgotten what it was like to love it in the first place.

Hollow, empty, void.

If only he could go back in time, he wouldn't trust a single word _he_ said to him.

_If only._

Now all Yuuri could do was reduce the "if only's" in his life and make the best out of his current situation. Not that he knew how to start with that.

Yuuri sighed and leaned on the counter of the petite cafe. The eleventh sigh of the day, he noted. Apparently, social media had to choose that particularly miserable day to fail him miserably, doing nothing to lessen his boredom. Dialing for the umpteenth time and still not receiving a response, Yuuri was sure Phichit was preoccupied with work and Skype calls from a Japanese friend was not exactly the Thai's first priority. What a lucky bastard. At least he had something to keep him busy and not wilting away at the moment. Yuuri resisted the urge to throw his phone across the area of Sakhalin Cafe, for the sake of his screen.

Having no choice, Yuuri made himself the third cup of coffee of the evening and sat at the table he liked most---two seats, one on either side of the table, its position right in the middle before the transparent glass. He had cleaned up all the tables ages ago, and the cafe was nothing but empty so he had the area all to himself.

The scenery was the city of Detroit, though it was never the same every night. Take tonight as an example: parked-up cars would've started clamoring the streets by now, for the time was crawling near 8:30 pm, late workers would've driven to the clubs in the area to have a little alcohol and fun; the streets tonight, however, were close to silent. Yuuri let his mind wander towards the reasons why. With a wild imagination that helped him think up thousands of music pieces and choreograph countless routines, Yuuri's mind drifted around more than just shallow topics like his future. 

Yuuri wouldn't have noticed a customer enter Sakhalin Cafe if it weren't for the clear chime of bells hung at the entrance.

Head snapping up, the 21-year-old's glasses fell out of place. The annoyance was clear on his face, though he did try to hide it.

He didn't expect that the irritation would take an abrupt turn to utmost shock. He most certainly didn't expect his eyes going wide wide wide at the sight of a mere customer.

"Hello Yuuri, it's been a while."

Katsuki Yuuri congratulated himself for not screaming outright.

》》》》

**"No. _Fucking._ Way."**

**Never in his whole fucking life would this be true, despite having only lived 13 years at this point.**

**"I am not joking Yuuri, he really is coming."**

**"And he just happened to enter school two years later than most of us and ended up in our year? How's that possible?"**

**Phichit scoffed and snatched his phone out of Yuuri's palms, almost dropping it. Their beloved secondary school Hasetsu International was located on the top of the hill. It wasn't steep, per se, but it would leave a lot of people panting if they were climbing it at Yuuri and Phichit's pace, let alone talking along the way, so it was no surprise that the phone would drop if Phichit had shakier hands.**

**"You've admired Viktor since the start of time, and when I tell you that you would share the same school with him, you deny it. Seriously?"**

**Yuuri flushed a deep red, not exactly due to the body heat of climbing the hill. "I'm just nervous, ok? I mean, who wouldn't be if they found out their idol would be having lessons with them at school?"**

**Phichit laughed, only making Yuuri flush redder, "C'mon lover boy, don't you wanna see your beloved Viktor ASAP?" "I'm not in love with him! And he's not mine!" Yuuri hoped that Phichit heard him because as soon as he had finished talking, the Thai boy had already run ahead of him. Yuuri smirked despite himself---this was definitely a race.**

》》》》

This was one of the scenes that occurred so frequently in his life that Yuuri had started finding cliche by now-Viktor fucking Nikiforov surprising him. Again. Here he thought 5 years ago was the last time he allowed that to happen.

"What happened to your hair?"

It wasn't until when Viktor's hand slowly carded through his silver hair that Yuuri realized he had just said. The amused raise of Viktor's eyebrow wasn't helping.

Oh well, he might as well continue if he had already embarrassed himself. "You got your ponytail replaced with a mop cut? You sure do go with the crowd."

What he had just stated was 100% true. Gone was the silver streak of a waterfall that used to fall so elegantly behind Viktor's back, replaced with a short haircut which framed his face. Yuuri wasn't surprised he wasn't the first to hear the information; the last time he saw Vikor on TV was 3 years ago. At that time, his shimmering ponytail was still intact as he waved to the crowds on that podium. It was that scene that repulsed Yuuri so much he stopped watching Viktor skate at all. Still, it was a pity that glittering waterfall was gone--- he was one of the few in the male population that could pull that off.

The confident aura Viktor held disappeared in a flash as he ducked his head at Yuuri's commentary. Yuuri knew he shouldn't feel pleased to see shame in the other man's irises. But the pride welled up nonetheless.

"I shouldn't be surprised. You're Viktor Nikiforov, the guy who only cares about popularity, who wouldn't hesitate to betray anyone when it comes to his own uses," Yuuri rose from his seat, edging towards the Russian, the latter actually having the nerve to meet his eyes.

"Yuuuuri..." Who allowed the git to utter his name in the softest of whispers? "You know that's not true."

Yuuri didn't exactly know what happened, but he could feel himself snap. "Not true huh?" the line had been crossed, and now there was nothing holding him back, "Then how do you explain that sodding smile every time you're on that podium? Hmm? Looking so happy even though you knew what filthy way brought you there. You're a shameless traitor and yet the world sees you as their hero. If I could even have the money to go to all your Grand Prixes and World Championships, I would rush to that podium and _choke_ you with that medal of yours."

He was so close now that he could count Viktor's silver lashes. Even though the adrenaline was still fully on, the insults he just spat wasn't even close to the amount he stored up all these years.

When Viktor lifted a hand again, Yuuri flinched away. The last thing he wanted in this world was for the git to touch him. However, Viktor only used said hand to card across his face.

"Yuuri," a sigh, 'I'd really like to continue this little chat of ours, but I just want to grab a coffee and get out of here."

If this was any normal situation, Yuuri would've seethed at the arrogance in Viktor's voice. But Viktor only sounded...exhausted? Of all shitty emotions? The facade was gone and the tiredness was clear on his face. There weren't dark black bags under his eyes or chapped lips, but the fox's eyes---usually icy, arresting determination---were dull.

Yuuri blinked. "So you're telling me that your only purpose here is coffee and nothing else?"

"Well, the hotel coffee is terrible, and this is the nearest cafe. I have to say, seeing you sitting so prettily under the lights was a definite bonus, hehe...but yeah, I only want to get a decent cup of coffee."

Even though Viktor was obviously the one flirting, he himself was the one flushing. how the times have changed, for 13-year-old Yuuri would've gladly plucked the moon from the sky to witness this scene. Since Viktor was going to collapse any moment now, Yuuri spared the fox his teasing and walked up to the counter.

"Then make it quick and leave Nikiforov," Yuuri propped himself in front of the cashier, "And I'm not going to add foam to your drink even if you want me to; I just cleaned the foam machine so I don't want to wash it again."

Viktor gave a weak smile, "A cup of black joe please." Funny that Yuuri actually asked for Viktor's coffee choice because it was an unnecessary question. How could Yuuri possibly forget how Viktor took his coffee? It hadn't changed since they met. Yuuri was sure that it was completely normal for one to remember such a small detail of one's arch nemesis.

"6 dollars.'

"But that's double the price!"

"I'm giving you hotel quality if you don't pay up," Wow, he was doing a great job at being a complete asshole. Yuri Plisetsky would be proud. No matter, Viktor Nikiforov deserved way worse than this treatment anyway.

As if the thought of awful coffee physically hurt him or something, Viktor whimpered and obliged. Yuuri took the money with a satisfied grin. He mentally noted to himself to make the coffee worth its price so his boss wouldn't receive complaints from the man that stood before him, though he couldn't recall the time when Viktor filed a complaint about anything, unless you count the numerous times Viktor stormed into the head office to report Yuuri's bullies...

One sip was all it took for Viktor to close his eyes and breathe out, "Vkusno!" Yuuri would've swooned over his childlike expression if he was still in secondary school.

"Ahh...umm...Yuuri?" Shit, the guy said his name with a question mark. That was never a good sign! The silver fox cradled his coffee with one hand protectively, reaching for something in his trench coat pockets with another, "Here's my hotel card, from, ahh, y'know, from The Inn (5-star hotel, how predictable for a celebrity, Yuuri thought) just around the corner? This is the hotel card," the gloved hand shook as it pushed said card towards the Japanese. "My room is 1503. We can talk about...whatever this is, at least if you want to, that is."

Yuuri's eyes were glued to the card, never once raising his own brown irises to meet Viktor's.

His head only rose when the nervous babbling came to a halt, when a gust of October wind entered the cafe, and when the silhouette with the trench coat and the silver head turned obscure, disappearing under the shadows cast by street lamps.

》》》》

**The slam of his locker door didn't manage to cover up Phichit's whine of not wanting to pay for Yuuri's lunch. Apparently, despite running off first, Phichit had lost to Yuuri, and he had to pay the price. "Fine Phichit," Yuuri grinned at his friend's pout, "Help me carry these to History, I'll be grabbing a snack bar down the cafeteria." With one heavy thud, Yuuri's two History textbooks fell into Phichit's arm. Yelping, he glared at Yuuri's back as Yuuri ran off the stairs. "Don't be late to class or you'll leave a bad impression of yourself to oh-so-pretty Viktor Nikiforov on the first day of term starting!" "Shut up Phichit!"**

**Hasetsu International was one of the rare Japanese schools which had a vending machine, a cafeteria and dormitories, and Yuuri was eternally grateful for that. The dormitory system made school life way more thrilling than a Japanese school life should be since he was surrounded by friends 24/7. Not to mention all those nighttime adventures when he and Phichit sneaked into Seung Gil's dormitory that was one floor beneath them. Still, he had to will himself not to feel guilty whenever a warning letter was delivered home about his "solecism" and "vulgarity".**

**"Are you sure this is enough? You know how boring History is," Phichit asked when Yuuri manage to stumble into the classroom 5 minutes earlier till the lesson started. "Don't you try to fool me Phichit Chulanont," Yuuri pointed an accusing finger at the Thai's nose. Phichit giggled. "I'm trying to lose weight so I can beat you once and for all at the Grand Prix and the Ice Fest."**

**"You're not going to beat me."**

**"I am."**

**"You're not."**

**"I _am_."**

**Phichit sighed. "Even if you did-"**

**" _When_ I _do_ \---"**

**"The gold won't go to you even if you beat me anyway."**

**_Huh?_ It took Yuuri a few seconds to digest the information, then he groaned into his hands.**

**"I guess that's one disadvantage of Viktor Nikiforov coming to our school, yes?"**

**"It's the only disadvantage Phichit."**

**"Ok ok! Fine! Your dream man is perfect, not one bit flawed, ok?" Tanned hands flew up in mock surrender, "It's still a pity though, to think that the top podium of Ice Fest in our school will always be reserved by him for as long as we're studying here. I mean, I'm pretty sure we're not going to beat him in the Grand Prix, but at least the winner in Ice Fest has always been me or you."**

**Yuuri smirked. "Who knows? Maybe I'll knock him down!" Phichit gasped, dramatically mortified.**

**"No way!"**

**The bell chimed, just in time for their senpai to enter the classroom. Backs straightened and whispers died down. Usually, the silence only lasted for five minutes maximum, as for today, that time limit was cut even shorter.**

**A huge bang coming from the classroom door sounded two minutes or so after the lesson started. Several students** **yelped, but were hushed immediately by the murderous glare of Fujita-senpai. Said glare was now directed at the door, where a blond with amber eyes was standing.**

**"Gomen'nasai!" Christophe Giacometti bowed lowly, voice not one bit apologetic. Too reckless. Tardiness was never acceptable, _especially_ in Fujita's classes. Yuuri was damn sure that the Swiss boy was trying to get himself murdered.**

**"Mister Giacometti! Assisting a new student around the school does not guarantee lateness! You---"**

**Yuuri was wholly unprepared for the second voice that sounded like chimes in the wind (it's cliche, and Yuuri knows it, but don't blame him for not having a better choice of words to describe the melody) "It's fine," _So familiar..._ "It was my fault for unpacking so long," _ok,_ too _familiar..._ "My apologies, Fujita-senpai."**

**The silver head bowed, and the figure next to Giacometti who was covered just so in Yuuri's view only mere seconds ago** , **came into view. Yuuri's hand flew up to cover Phchit's mouth when his best friend squealed.**

**"Later. In my office. The both of you," the silver fox's puppy dog eyes were surprisingly not working. "Take a seat this instant."**

**It wasn't until when Viktor and Christophe were walking towards them that Yuuri realised that the only two empty seats were right. Behind. Them.**

**_Death_ , his grave would read, _by sitting in front of Viktor Nikiforov._ Jesus Christ, his palms were sweating like mad.**

**And then Phichit, ever the horrible friend, had to choose this anxiety-filled moment to pat Yuuri on the shoulder, in which caused Yuuri to turn around so he could see the Thai.**

**#2 surprise of the day: meeting the deep deep blue of Viktor's eyes.**

**Yuuri's jaw slacked, yet Viktor only beamed wider.**

**"Hi," the tidal waves said eyes held sparkled, "I'm Viktor Nikiforov!"**

**The unending chain of surprises didn't stop since then.**

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for the first chapter! Go to the comments and give me a shout so I know that you're here, every comment counts! 13-year-old Yuuri is supposed to be in Year 2 according to the Japanese education system. And I'll explain the origin of the nickname "silver fox" in future chapters, if I would write them.
> 
> Gomen'nasai!= "I'm sorry!" in Japanese
> 
>  
> 
> [Moi Tumblr!](https://siriuslupinn.tumblr.com/)


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